


The Story Would Never Be Complete

by ZeroG



Series: Faith's Stories [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Because I like hurting myself, Historical Inaccuracies, John’s a Ghost, M/M, M/M/M, Polyamorous relationship, Polyamory, Unspoken Character Death, alcohol use, emotional stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 13:49:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12632328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZeroG/pseuds/ZeroG
Summary: When John had to depart from them to go to another battalion and start his own, the first all-black battalion, they had cried. They really didn’t want their John, their Jacky, to leave them. John cried as he turned away from them that last time, and the Marquis had clung to Hercules’ shoulders as they watched him hurry off to not be late for his own departure off to South Carolina.So much time has passed since then. So many letters, so many comments confessions of love that were expressed through the parchment that were written in the depths of the night in bright moments of desperation and longing for their long lost lover. The two in the North were constantly in contact with their missing piece in the South.If only they had known that their tearful goodbye during the war would be their last.





	The Story Would Never Be Complete

Hercules Mulligan, John Laurens and the Marquis de Lafayette. The unimaginable dynamic threesome that helped the war come to a close. The three of them were practically inseparable, always together and even sharing a tent most of the time, with the excuse just being ‘it’s easier to deal because they were so close in the first place.’

The only times they willingly left each other was for when they went into battle, and even after them they’d always find their way back together. It didn’t matter if they were tired, backed up on work, or sick, they always made their way back to each other’s arms and smiles.

Their little relationship was all thanks to John, really. He was originally just with Hercules in secret, way in the beginning, when it was just the two of them. John had asked for it first; in the sense that they were walking home from a bar late one night and John just pushed the stumbling Hercules against a wall in an alley and pushed his tongue into his mouth and put his hands on his shoulders, kissing him like it was all he had left. And of course Hercules was surprised, but that didn’t stop him from kissing back and being thankful that it was dark and the lamps were out so no one could really see them except each other. Hercules had wrapped his arms tightly around the other’s middle and hasn’t let go since.

They were together for maybe a year before the Marquis arrived off his boat, barely knowing a lick of English, all smiles and high cheekbones and plump lips. John was infatuated with the man immediately and took the impressionable boy under his wing, taught him English and reminded him of combat. Hercules also enjoyed the Frenchman’s presence but didn’t want to ruin what he had with John, until John thought up the idea of having both of them at the same time. It took a lot of discussing, talking, and finally kissing to figure it out. And the three barely separated since.

Even with the arrival of the boy Alexander didn’t really faze them (well, it fazed John who definitely shed more upset tears than happy ones at his wedding), and they were happy to allow him into their friendship and kindness, but the three of them remained something a little more, something unspoken in those early years of America. Unspoken darting glances, gentle fixes of the cravat before going off to their duties, lingering hands on the arms or knees or backs. All signs of their little secret, and even though some people questioned, oftentimes they were just left alone to their own devices.

When John had to depart from them to go to another battalion and start his own, the first all-black battalion, they had cried. They really didn’t want their John, their Jacky, to leave them. John cried as he turned away from them that last time, and the Marquis had clung to Hercules’ shoulders as they watched him hurry off to not be late for his own departure off to South Carolina.

So much time has passed since then. So many letters, so many comments confessions of love that were expressed through the parchment that were written in the depths of the night in bright moments of desperation and longing for their long lost lover. The two in the North were constantly in contact with their missing piece in the South.

If only they had known that their tearful goodbye during the war would be their last.

America had won the war, and all of the soldiers were marching home, singing. Hercules and Lafayette were singing too, and they knew that they had each other, and they had John, who was expected to be coming home once South Carolina got word that the war was finally over. They went out, got drinks, celebrated, and went home to write an excited letter to John about the war finally being over.

And that’s when they stopped hearing from him.

Some short time passed before they received another letter from a Laurens. But it wasn’t from John himself, it was his father.

Hercules and Lafayette both got identical looking letters, having still not opened them as they sat across each other in the bar, staring, waiting. They were waiting for one of them to open theirs first, fear threatening to pass their lips as their first round of many came and was situated onto the table.

Hercules took a short breath. “Why do you think his father would send us a letter?”  
“I would not be able to tell you that off the top of my head.”  
“I can’t think of anything either.” Hercules sighed out, taking a slow swig of his drink.  
“I can think of one thing, but it is simply too dark of a thought to gather the courage to even think it.” Lafayette’s head dropped a little as he re-read the name on the front of the letter.  
“We are imagining the same scenario.”  
“I don’t want to read it.”  
“It’s for John. We must. I’m going to.” Hercules picked up his letter from the table, holding it out in front of himself to study it. “We should do it together.”  
“I do not want to.”  
“Gil, please. It’s for John.” Hercules’ voice wavered just slightly as the shorter man looked to the Frenchman. Lafayette bit down on his lip and nodded.

Hercules took in a soft breath. “Open in three. One.. two.. three.”

They both tore the letter open, and there was a rush of cold air down the backs of their spines as they pulled the neatly folded pieces of parchment out from its packaging.

‘I may not live to see our glory.’

The letter read as all respectable letters do.

‘But I may gladly join the fight.’

Hercules didn’t realize he was crying until the words on the parchment became illegible from the tears in his eyes, and the tears that were smearing the ink on the bottom of the paper.

‘And when our children tell our story...’

Lafayette was sobbing. Hard. Hercules took a long swig of his drink to contain his breaking composure.

‘They’ll tell the story of tonight.’

They both looked up at the same time, tears still streaming, looking at the door. An ethereal figure was standing in front of the closed door, drink in hand, freckles dancing and glittering on non-existent skin. A ghost, if anyone could comprehend such a term. It drifted through the bar until it was finally in front of them, smiling.

John.

Hercules reached out to try and at least feel John again, but was instead met with a burst of cold air on his palm that made him flinch and retract the limb. Lafayette’s breath was stuck in his throat as John’s chest slowly dripped a white, shimmery liquid coming from a bullet hole. The two men in the booth were stunned to silence as they stared at this heavenly being before them, their John, standing with his drink raised and a bright, sad smile on his face as he raised his glass in cheers before putting it down and looking at the both of them. He reached and touched both of their shoulders for a soft moment before leaning down, pressing his cold, cold lips against Lafayette’s, who was frozen still, then to Hercules, who didn’t react except for a scared and tight breath through his nose.

And then John opened his mouth and raised his glass again.

‘Tomorrow they’ll be more of us...’

Their John was gone for good.

Hercules and Lafayette raised their glasses simultaneously.

“They’ll tell the story of tonight.”

**Author's Note:**

> We live for comments


End file.
